


Pacifying a Memory

by oneblacksheep



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: -Ish, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hannibal is sad, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Kisses, because it's kind of sad, but lil soft ones, kind of sad, light cuddling, mischa - Freeform, will comforts him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 02:59:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneblacksheep/pseuds/oneblacksheep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal gets trapped in his memory palace and ends up getting emotional about Mischa during a session with Will. Will doesn't understand, but comforts him anyway. This is kind of sad, just a warning, but the ending is kind of happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pacifying a Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Started reading Hannibal today, so a lot of this memory comes from a part in the book. But I wanted to make it where (tv) Will comforts Hannibal. Please leave comments to tell me what you thought.

Do you know how it feels to have the only thing you cared about ripped from your hands?

Hannibal Lecter knew. He knew the dull ache Franklyn referred to (before his death), about being lonely.

Yes, he knew so well.

Hannibal's memory palace was vast, but like any memory, trap doors were in the floors and holes in the ceilings. Except for two memories. 

Mischa.

The memory he collected at age six stormed his dreams when danger was near, warning him of what was to be. 

He should have been the one they took. The Nazis that killed his parents, destroyed their home, and took his precious sister. It should have been him. When animals were no where to be found in the winter forests they'd take a child. 

He was dragged into that cursed room of his memory palace. 

The felt him first. The grabbed his upper arms and felt for how much meat he could yield. They examined him like slaves were examined; looking for the best choice. But he didn't make the cut. No, he wasn't sufficient enough for the monsters to be satisfied. 

Mischa seemed to be.

His fists clenched as he recalled his weak six year old grip on his precious sister. He couldn't save his parents, but his broken mind thought he could save the last thing he had, the only person he cared about anymore. His face only received splinters from the barn door being slammed on him, as they took his sister from his grip. 

He prayed. He prayed hard.

His prayer was the only thing in his young mind, but despite the repeating prayer running through his head, through his lips, the sound of the ax chopping would not leave his ears alone. 

What they did after that-

"Hannibal!"

The doctor opened his eyes, he felt a few beads of sweat role down his temples, it took him a couple seconds to realize a scream had escaped his lips, he immediate shut his mouth, his anguished cry choking out. 

He had only closed his eyes for a second while Will was looking through the balcony library. He hadn't even heard the young man come down the ladder. 

His face was solid, as if a terror filled scream had not just came from him. But he couldn't register or hide the shaking of his hands, along with a tremble in his shoulders.

"Hannibal, Hannibal are you okay?" Will was close. Hannibal didn't speak. He only sat in the desk at his chair, breathing deeply, nostrils flaring slightly, letting the sweet sickness of Will Graham rush through his veins. 

Will was worried, and it showed in his voice. He had glanced at the doctor occasionally while he was up in the library, he though he was only closing his eyes for a few minutes, but obviously something else happened. He called his name a few times, but the older man did not come out of his thoughts.

Hannibal audibly swallowed, the sweat that coated his sharp features seconds before now seemed to turn into a calming sheen running off his face. 

He looked up to the man half sitting on his desk, much like he had after the incident with Tobias. 

"I am fine, Will, thank you." 

Will wasn't buying it, but he didn't want to bombard Hannibal with questions, this was obviously something that bothered him deeply. The normally calm and collected doctor expressed emotion in that scream, pain, anguish, he had been hurt. It hurt Will to know that this man, his anchor, his friend, the man he felt something for that maybe crossed the barriers of friendship, could ever be hurt. Even when he had been attacked by Tobias, none of the damage seemed to equate to the pain that was previously on the older man's face.

He would not pry.

Hannibal did not make eye contact, it bothered Will. The tables had never been turned on him like this. When Hannibal finally made eye contact, something deep within Will drove him to take action. Maybe it was his empathy skills, or maybe it was the such forward look of pain on the doctor's face. Whatever it was, it was enough to make Will lean down a bit more, and remove the pocket square handkerchief from Hannibal's sleek black suit, the deep red paisley pattern complementing the same deep red colored shirt beneath a black waist coat, all under a perfectly tailored suit jacket. 

Will carefully wiped Hannibal's face, the older man studying the young man intently as he wiped away the sweat from his forehead, the sides of his face, and as much of the neck he could get.

Will pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth as he carefully tried to fold the cloth back into a square and put it back in Hannibal's suit's breast pocket. Will's hands were a little shaky when they grazed the inside of the suit jacket to replace the handkerchief, the warmth emanating from Hannibal's chest was intense. 

Despite the calmness that came (ironically) from the unstable special agent, Hannibal found himself still shaking, lightly, but noticeable.

"Thank you, Will." Hannibal said with as much professionalism he could muster with his nerves still on edge. 

Will cocked his head slightly to the side, much like Hannibal does when he watches him.

'It's only my empathy skills' Will said to himself as he leaned down and hugged Hannibal. His position standing, and Hannibal's position sitting made it a little awkward at first, but Will adjusted and wrapped his arms around Hannibal, holding onto him tighter than he intended, as if Hannibal was his metaphorical Mischa. 

They stayed like that for some moments. Will knew it was not only his gift that drove him to embrace Hannibal in such a comforting manner, something else was there, and always would be, but right now, it felt right. He was still worried, and curious as to what drove Hannibal to that awful scream, and that broken look in his eyes, maybe that's why he quietly whispered into Hannibal's ear as he held onto the man. "It's okay Hannibal, you're okay now, nothing can hurt you now, whatever happened, it's happened, and it's okay to go forward. If screaming, crying, fighting, or deep breaths help you; do it. I'll be here, I can be here for you." Will's eyes were closed as he whispered these things, almost in a maniacal manner, his mind not yet processing his words as they poured out of his lips in hot breaths on Hannibal's ear. He didn't even know if they would mean anything to the doctor.

But they did.

They meant so much to Hannibal, Will meant so much to Hannibal. Will Graham was the second memory that held no gaps or trap doors in Hannibal's palace. Will did not know, and he may never know, but right here, at this moment, Hannibal felt cared for. He hadn't had that feeling for forty-two years. 

He knew Will would not push him for an explanation, he knew things would go back to normal, no matter how careful at first, and so he did what he had not done in some time.

Hannibal bowed his head into the crook of Will's neck, the younger man's arms still wrapped tightly around him, his own arms at his side, resting in his lap in the chair, constrained comfortably under Will's embrace.

When Will felt hot liquid drops on his neck, he did not say anything. When he felt the drops run down his throat, trialing down his chest, he did not say anything. When he heard one broken sob escape Hannibal's lips, muffled by his own neck, he did not say anything. 

He remained silent as Hannibal unraveled in his arms, still sitting at his desk. 

It felt like hours, though it barely had been one hour since Will abruptly came down from the library at Hannibal's scream. But the time was not uncomfortable, and despite the strangeness of it all, it was not awkward. Will wanted to ask, wanted to say something, but knew if Hannibal wanted to tell him anything, he would, and if he didn't, he wouldn't.

"Thank you." Will heard Hannibal's voice rumble against his neck. He sounded like his throat might be dry, he sounded tired. 

Will knew things would return to normal, the doctor would return to himself the next time he saw him, but he couldn't help but do what he felt would be right at the moment.

Will's lips lightly brushed the top of Hannibal's ear, despite underlying romantic feelings, (little known to Will that the feeling was mutual) the kisses he adorned on Hannibal's ear, his head, his temples, his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his chin, and finally his slightly pooched lips, they didn't feel sexual. The soft kisses Will covered Hannibal's face in were warm and gentle, and made Hannibal feel...better. 

Another human being had not made him feel "better" on an emotional level since...ever? No, Mischa used to comfort him...but now, Will was comforting him. 

It felt foreign, for Hannibal to be held and comforted to ease his mind, but it felt good. 

The older man coughed lightly, and Will reluctantly unwrapped his arms from Hannibal, the ached slightly when he put them at his sides from being up so long, but he did not care. He stayed sat on Hannibal's desk, the doctor looking up at him with his watery eyes, losing their redness and puffiness, returning to normal. 

His face was flushed white from all the salt of his tears. Will wiped a stray tear off of Hannibal's high cheekbones. His skin was warm despite the paleness it exhibited at the moment.

Once again, Hannibal said, "Thank you, Will." the younger man gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes, which were full of empathy of Hannibal. He felt the older man's sorrow, but also felt them wash away the longer he kept eye contact with the man.

The older man suddenly stood up, so Will straightened also. Neither moved to make room for the other to move, their bodies were nearly touching. 

"I would like to invite you to my home for dinner tonight, William." Hannibal told the younger man quietly.

"I'd like that." Will returned, just as quiet. For a long moment neither moved, until Hannibal leaned down slightly and kissed Will's forehead, then his nose, his cheeks, his chin, his lips. Repeating what Will had done to him with such affectionate care; except he let his lips linger longer on Will's. 

The younger man's face heated up as Hannibal showed him out of the office, the now steady hand of the doctor on his lower back, gently guiding him. "I will see you tonight at eight?" Hannibal half asked half stated. Will smiled, this time reaching his eyes, but it was shy. "Okay...see you then, Hannibal." Will said as a goodbye.

Before he left the office from the private patient exit, Will gave Hannibal another hug, this time the doctor returning it, wrapping his own arms around Will.

Neither said a word as they pulled tentatively away from each other, and as Will left, both knowing they'd see each other tonight, both knowing it would not be just a dinner between friends tonight, or any other night from now on.

A memory of Mischa singing merrily flashed in Hannibal's mind as Will left. This time the memory was not the dark pain-filled one the others were of her. It was happy, it was safe. 

William Graham would be able to satisfy both Hannibal, and the memory he held of his beloved sister.


End file.
